


Personality

by o0Anapher0o



Series: Personalities [1]
Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Drunken Kissing, First Kiss, Garak's eternal pessimism, M/M, Maybe Hopeful ending, Self-Esteem Issues, on both sides would you believe it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-21
Updated: 2020-03-21
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:26:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23243230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/o0Anapher0o/pseuds/o0Anapher0o
Summary: Changelings, Holograms; why does no one ever realise, when Bashir is not Bashir? It really is enough to give a man a complex and drive him to drink. And then he might just drag his ex-spy friend out of bed and demand some answers.
Relationships: Julian Bashir/Elim Garak
Series: Personalities [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1705204
Comments: 14
Kudos: 124





	Personality

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by a tumblr post where someone pointed out how tough it is that Bashir’s parents couldn’t tell him apart from a hologram just after he had been replaced by a founder and no one noticed.  
> Set a couple of hours after Miles makes Julian stand back from the darts board at the end of ‘Doctor Bashir, I presume?’. Originally I intended this conversation to happen between those two, but I couldn’t really work it out, and Garak kindly offered to take over. He’s hard to say no to. Assume the awkward 'I'm genetically enhanced'-conversation has already taken place.  
> My first ever Star Trek fic , wohoo. Unfortunately I don’t have a beta in this fandom (yet?).

“Am I really that easy to imitate?”

Garak blinked slightly confused at the man standing in the door of his quarters. The Doctor sounded a little upset and more than a little drunk.

“I’m afraid I have no idea what you’re talking about, Doctor.” Or why you felt the need to come to talk to me about it at two in the morning, he added mentally.

Bashir pushed into the room without waiting for an invitation and flopped down on the couch. A statement to his intoxicated state if anything.

“Well, I’ve been replaced by a changeling, not once but twice, without any of my friends noticing, even though the second time went on for weeks. I was a changeling for almost a month and the best Miles has to say is that he was easier to get along with. And now my entire life almost fell apart because my own parents couldn’t tell the difference between me and a half finished hologram.”

Bashir let his head fall back against the backrest, staring at the ceiling. “So what does that say about me? My personality is apparently really easy to mimic, or maybe I don’t even have one.”

Ah, so this was what this was about. Garak sighed and resigned himself to a lot less sleep than he would have liked. But he didn’t sleep well of late anyway and talking to even a inebriated Bashir beat tossing and turning in his lonely bed.

“I can’t really speak for your parents,” he said and took a seat next to the Doctor, “but rest assured Doctor, I consider my failure to notice you had been replaced by a founder one of the greatest embarrassments of my life.”

Bashir huffed. “I’m so sorry my abduction hurt your professional pride.” he said flatly.

Garak refrained from commenting. His friend was likely too drunk and upset to read much subtext at the moment. But maybe when he rehashed the conversation in the morning with that genetically enhanced brain of his, another thing Garak was embarrassed to have missed, maybe then he would understand the things Garak wasn’t saying. So he ignored the jab and continued.

“As much as I hate to agree with Chief O’Brien, I’d have to say he is right. The changeling was much more … restrained, less communicative and sociable, which, I assume, could be construed as more agreeable.” To a person like O’Brien, he thought, but held himself back, lest he upset Bashir even more.

“I was keeping my mouth shut? Some might say you should have taken that as a sign something was off.” Bashir commented dryly. He was still staring at the ceiling as if he couldn’t even look at Garak.

“They would be right.” the Cardassian conceded, “I should have noticed. Unfortunately I was looking for the reason for your change of behaviour in the wrong place.” At least I hope I did.

That got the doctor’s attention. He lifted his head and watched Garak from the corner of his eyes.

“Meaning what?” he asked warily.

Garak struggled with an answer. The truth in this case wasn’t an option that much was clear. The plain and simple truth that he when the doctor had cancelled several lunches in a row and invited Ziyal to another, Garak had assumed the good doctor had finally come to his senses and was carefully severing ties with his Cardassian friend. The timing had fitted too well, with his own fledgling friendship with Ziyal, that would have given the Doctor the chance to drop Garak into her lap, without feeling bad for the poor lonely tailor who didn’t have any other friends, while still ridding himself of an association that could not be good for his career and general standing on the station, and that he had probably realised was far less worthy of his time than he had thought until then. It would have been the ideal solution for all of them, Garak’s particular weakness for Bashir not withstanding. Logically it made perfect sense, so he had been quick to accept it as truth. But of course he wasn’t going to tell the doctor that now that he had apparently been wrong. Oh so very embarrassingly, painfully, stupidly wrong.

“I assumed the reason wasn’t with you.” he said carefully.

Close enough, hinting at the truth but not too forward. Admittedly it wasn’t Garak’s best work as far as obfuscation was concerned, but in the doctor’s intoxicated state he might just get away with it.

As expected Bashir gave him a confused look. “Where else if not with me would you look for the reasons _my_ behaviour changed?” he asked baffled.

Garak inwardly cursed himself for not predicting the question.

“Have you considered the root of both those incidents might be the same?” he deflected quickly.

Again not the best change of topic and about as subtle as a drunken Klingon, but it _was_ the middle of the night, he had just been raised form his sleep and frankly the last weeks had been rather taxing.

“What?”

At least Bashir was tired and drunk enough not to notice it seemed.

“Well, I assume that in order to hide your enhancements you had to hold back in your personal relationships.” Garak spun his distraction further, “It would certainly explain your problems to finding a romantic mate.”

He ignored Bashir’s indignant huff and ploughed on

“Do you think it is possible the reason no one noticed you had been replaced wasn’t due to a lack of personality but because you had been hiding too much?”

All in all it was a cheap shot, straight out of Garak’s deeply ingrained instinct to attack when under siege. He despised himself a little for stooping so low while the Doctor was clearly already taking things hard but couldn’t help himself. Every instinct in his body told him to attack, rather than let the doctor come any closer to the truth.

“So it was my own fault all along,” the Doctor huffed, “Thank you Garak, you’re truly making me feel better.”

A part of Garak’s mind screamed that he wasn’t exactly wrong, but mostly he wanted to apologize to Bashir. The Doctor had endured a lot over the last month and a half, and deserved better than being made to suffer more just because his friend was a miserable coward.

“I was merely presenting …” Garak attempted to sooth the blow a little but was interrupted when Bashir’s wondrous mind suddenly sprang back to the previously abandoned thread of the conversation.

“Wait, if you didn’t think the reason for my odd behaviour was with me, you must have thought it was someone else’s fault,” he said, “and since the only person whose interactions with me you knew exactly… Garak, did you think it was you’re fault that I was behaving strangely?”

And that quickly he had not only puzzled it out, but also completely shattered all of Garak’s defensive lies and half truths, cutting straight to the core. Before the tailor could reply though Bashir sat up and for the first time since he had come in he looked squarely at Garak.

“What in the galaxy did you think you had done?” he asked sounding a little stunned. “What could you possibly have done that you would think I’d turn my back on you? Garak, I forgave you for trying to kill me and an entire species. Hell, during the last month I had more than a few moments were I wished you had succeeded. I forgave you that you wanted to kill my friends, a frankly insurmountable mountain of lies and everything you did in your past. Did you really think there was anything that you could do to make me just walk out on you?”

Garak was speechless. He had never looked at it that way, but of course the doctor was right. And while he could always play off Bashir forgiving him on his death bed by reminding himself that the Doctor had had no idea of the things he had been forgiving him for, the other instances he had been in no doubt just what Garak had done, or intended to do. And he had forgiven him. Every time. Sometimes it had taken him a while but he always had. He had always come back. For a moment Garak was utterly stunned. It was a physical effort not to let his mouth drop open. He had not been so completely overwhelmed the moment he had seen Bashir in the internment camp when he had realised that he had been replaced by a founder.

“Garak, you utter plonker.”

There were gentle hands on his face and then suddenly Bashir was kissing him.

Garak’s entire body froze. He should stop this. Now. The Doctor was upset and drunk and would most likely regret this come morning and he should really put a stop to this, but… Julian was kissing him. Sloppy and wet and tasting of the whiskey he had drunk with Chief O’Brien, but Julian was kissing him and for the moment this seemed to be only thing that mattered in the universe. He would regret this in the morning, he knew he would, but maybe for now, just for a moment he could have this. And besides he seemed to already be kissing Julian back. He wasn’t entirely sure how that had happened but he was, so now that he’d realised it, he could do nothing but throw himself into the kiss and hope. Hope that the Doctor would not change his mind by the morning. Hope that the doctor would not remember in the morning. He wasn’t sure which of the two he hoped for, so he just hoped and kept kissing Julian with every thing he had.

Garak came to his senses when he noticed hands pulling on his clothes. He grabbed and stilled them and slowly, regretfully broke the kiss. Julian let out a low sound of disappointment, but Garak didn’t let go.

“You, my dear, are drunk.” he stated, whishing he didn’t sound quite so breathless. At least the Doctor was similarly out of breath. He blinked slowly and the nodded.

“I am. Doesn’t mean I don’t mean it though.” he replied.

Garak couldn’t hide a fond smile, even as his heart ached. “In that case, my dear, I’d invite you to come back tomorrow, when you’re less intoxicated and prove it.”

Bashir pouted for a moment before his face lit up.

“I will.” he declared.

It should have hurt him more. But Garak’s body was still rushing with endorphins and he could still feel the Doctors lips tingling on his, so he managed a warm smile as he gently pulled Bashir to his feet again.

“You know where to find me, Doctor. But for now you should go to your quarters and sleep. I believe you are on duty tomorrow.”

Garak silently congratulated himself for resolutely avoiding the term ‘bed’. He really couldn’t let either of their minds go down that path right now. He manoeuvred a surprisingly compliant Bashir to the door and through it. Before he could close the doors again the doctor turned back once more.

“I will come back tomorrow.” he promised again.

“And I will be waiting.” Garak replied.

Once the doors had finally closed after the Doctor Garak dropped back onto his couch.

Oh, this was a disaster.


End file.
